tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32420636903936016112018-05-28T23:06:56.714-07:00Impetuslet's make it happenmortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-3386973019537948932007-12-07T15:56:00.000-08:002007-12-07T15:58:08.413-08:00Nerd<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/R1neCtWC0iI/AAAAAAAAADc/CQ05mWg-VTI/s1600-h/41ZLGZ43bhL._AA280_.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/R1neCtWC0iI/AAAAAAAAADc/CQ05mWg-VTI/s200/41ZLGZ43bhL._AA280_.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141384587733291554" /></a><br />If it wasn't official before, it is now. Fuck.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-90647030449761345712007-11-06T21:57:00.000-08:002007-11-06T22:09:38.729-08:00Scruffy, but brilliant.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RzFWj-mJwsI/AAAAAAAAADU/1rIhdCipiwI/s1600-h/2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RzFWj-mJwsI/AAAAAAAAADU/1rIhdCipiwI/s200/2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129976626650137282" /></a><br />It has been months. Eight, or maybe nine agonizing, but truthful months. Facing myself has felt like an endless build up, but with one swift blow I realease a torrent of blood. Disgusted with what I was, I plan to walk away from it. Fucking ronin are always on my back looking for a fight.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-62875089534232030312007-10-12T16:29:00.000-07:002007-10-12T16:32:44.949-07:00zonked<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RxAEFGwzsOI/AAAAAAAAADM/0wW8T8uSu10/s1600-h/tired_husband.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RxAEFGwzsOI/AAAAAAAAADM/0wW8T8uSu10/s200/tired_husband.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120597262081437922" /></a><br />Not much to say, so I havn't said it. I have been asleep for fucking weeks now.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-47601840599320540492007-09-27T23:31:00.000-07:002007-09-27T23:34:23.114-07:00There went my whole night.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RvygaCfqSfI/AAAAAAAAADE/fFyjzGWSNiQ/s1600-h/halo3_450x360.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RvygaCfqSfI/AAAAAAAAADE/fFyjzGWSNiQ/s200/halo3_450x360.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115139645992749554" /></a><br />Fucking Halo 3.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-31033211033939419642007-09-25T07:53:00.000-07:002007-09-25T07:58:03.467-07:00Yikes<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rvkh9SfqSeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/DEIGs7m6-ao/s1600-h/bigfoot-3.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rvkh9SfqSeI/AAAAAAAAAC8/DEIGs7m6-ao/s200/bigfoot-3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114156188676278754" /></a><br />There is a lot of fucking shit to be afraid of out there. Trust me.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-50272515391107439572007-09-21T15:24:00.000-07:002007-09-21T15:33:34.309-07:00Pest<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RvRGtpDzZMI/AAAAAAAAAC0/OUcAnyqOG_Y/s1600-h/BlackGarbageFlyAdult.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RvRGtpDzZMI/AAAAAAAAAC0/OUcAnyqOG_Y/s200/BlackGarbageFlyAdult.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112789226902217922" /></a><br />I don't like killing bugs. I've killed living things before, more then I wanted to, but I try my hardest not to kill the little guys. It's not really all that fair- I mean I'm much bigger then them, big enough to be part of the landscape. It feels like beating up a little kid. My patience can only go so far though. Bugs with stingers, or ones that burrow into my flesh- you're getting whacked. Spiders, I'll pick you up and take you outside. Silverfish move to fast, its fucking creepy- so they too bite it. Flys and knats, well I tend not to kill you unless you are really fucking annoying. I really wish this fucking hairy ass fly would stop landing on me, papa doesn't want to have to kill again.....mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-69326531408012939632007-09-15T14:57:00.000-07:002007-09-15T15:01:58.426-07:00Tha's right<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuxWTBOlOeI/AAAAAAAAACs/VfQsBjqzBv8/s1600-h/mooninite.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuxWTBOlOeI/AAAAAAAAACs/VfQsBjqzBv8/s200/mooninite.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110554561905768930" /></a><br />Fuck posting everyday.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-85075781204481409432007-09-13T21:50:00.001-07:002007-09-13T21:54:03.626-07:00Lone Wolf<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuoTyROlOdI/AAAAAAAAACk/5CkI9w0Fuf0/s1600-h/shogun-430.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuoTyROlOdI/AAAAAAAAACk/5CkI9w0Fuf0/s200/shogun-430.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109918481544198610" /></a><br />In a time of evil and tyranny, a stone-faced ronin wanders the countryside with his young son ( and a weapon-filled baby cart), hunted by the merciless minions of an evil shogun. Finally, motherfucking Shogun Assassin, on dvd, is in my possession.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-45546698074423358362007-09-12T20:36:00.000-07:002007-09-12T20:46:02.155-07:00Rock<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuiydBOlOcI/AAAAAAAAACc/i0ZbPpLQPdc/s1600-h/Starbucks+Bathroom3.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuiydBOlOcI/AAAAAAAAACc/i0ZbPpLQPdc/s200/Starbucks+Bathroom3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109529988867373506" /></a><br />So chicago was pure mindless fun. It seemed so over the top insane to just take a long drive to hang out on one block, take in a few deep breaths and head back home. I caught some nasty stomach shit, so my ambition to spend the entire day up there went straight to hell, but I still think the overall trip was a huge success. For the amount of foot traffic, the starbucks bathroom was mighty clean, sort of. When I got home I was in such stomach, nauseous pain I came very close to going to the hospital. Then I fell asleep and ten hours woke up a lot better. I still feel like crap, which I think I have some flu shit stalking me the way things are looking so far. Fuck the flu.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-41651158688529648672007-09-11T21:37:00.000-07:002007-09-11T21:41:21.454-07:00Fresh<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rudt3BOlObI/AAAAAAAAACU/x_1h7j2YWi8/s1600-h/klobo.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rudt3BOlObI/AAAAAAAAACU/x_1h7j2YWi8/s200/klobo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109173094264945074" /></a><br />I love new furniture, but not the baggage that comes with it. Now I feel compelled to clean out messy shelves, move tables, and clean out just about every room in the house. Fuck...so much to do now.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-61912005998900359712007-09-08T15:21:00.000-07:002007-09-08T15:31:34.153-07:00Treat<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuMiq3etwVI/AAAAAAAAACM/fexVdAZRaHo/s1600-h/25_1710.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuMiq3etwVI/AAAAAAAAACM/fexVdAZRaHo/s200/25_1710.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107964522210902354" /></a><br />For some strange reason I have been excited about halloween all of a sudden. Maybe it's all the rain ( it always rains on halloween in st. louis) or just the promise of fall around the corner. I don't know what it is, but I can't wait to cut some pumpkins, decorate the bushes, and scare myself to death. Plus all of the fucking delicious candy.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-87086833064270000902007-09-07T15:10:00.000-07:002007-09-07T15:14:46.012-07:00Bi-what now?<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuHNT3etwUI/AAAAAAAAACE/-ESXzAT9-BY/s1600-h/panda01.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuHNT3etwUI/AAAAAAAAACE/-ESXzAT9-BY/s200/panda01.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107589193608839490" /></a><br />So many ups and downs. I am dumbfounded...one day everything I am doing makes sense and feels good, the next it is worthless and a waste of time. Nothing is sticking, eveyrthing feels very temporary, like a sugar rush. Too many fucking blogs to keep track of....too many different selves.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-12091285374114198862007-09-06T16:25:00.000-07:002007-09-06T16:29:44.167-07:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuCNXHetwTI/AAAAAAAAAB8/bWmKKSgwMW8/s1600-h/Downpour.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RuCNXHetwTI/AAAAAAAAAB8/bWmKKSgwMW8/s200/Downpour.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107237405722526002" /></a><br />Sweet cold rain. I leave work early, and it downpours. I get to my car and it stops. Arrive home, downpours. Go inside, put my shit down, then it stops. I leave for the grocery store- on the way here it comes again. The rain is in love with me, to the point that it hasn't taken the hint and is now fucking stalking me.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-33815549027261006592007-09-05T15:45:00.000-07:002007-09-05T15:50:47.375-07:00Clean up, aisle 6<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rt8ywHetwSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/3CaiGCiHM8U/s1600-h/christy1s.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rt8ywHetwSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/3CaiGCiHM8U/s200/christy1s.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106856304684417314" /></a><br />I have decided to start fresh and toss out all of my standard go-to images for my work. I have become so crazy going through what to do and not do. I think I had some kind of plan to work through them all just to clean them out and say "ha, I rock". There is nothing wrong with throwing away the old to make room for something brand-fucking new.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-17560973710528823792007-09-04T12:32:00.000-07:002007-09-04T12:41:38.968-07:00Repeat, for us not furniture.<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rt20tnetwRI/AAAAAAAAABs/bL308z_Dxuo/s1600-h/context_chicago.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rt20tnetwRI/AAAAAAAAABs/bL308z_Dxuo/s200/context_chicago.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106436248292933906" /></a><br />So the plan is to fucking freak on out to chicago for a day, just to smell the air, get foot cramps, and touch something that feels a bit more real. Sounds good to me, especially if it prevents nuclear war. Sometimes it takes a massive explosion to change yourself, while other times it may only take a small shock. Lets go see what's fucking out there again, shock our systems.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-83017484311649798252007-09-03T10:19:00.000-07:002007-09-05T15:51:40.602-07:00SmoothMy portfolio site is well on its way to looking gorgeous. Its been a few years now, trying to find the perfect look, and creating the best code. Last night we jumped in and are practically there; now I just have a few more pages to make and some slimming down and beefing up and its done. A fucking job well done my friend, job well done.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-53469785856782944792007-09-02T10:24:00.000-07:002007-09-02T10:26:37.760-07:00Gross<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtryRXetwQI/AAAAAAAAABk/8elDjONMLDQ/s1600-h/iceberglettuce.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtryRXetwQI/AAAAAAAAABk/8elDjONMLDQ/s200/iceberglettuce.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105659507752419586" /></a><br />Iceberg lettuce often makes me puke. It never gets chewed enough and ends up sliding down my throat only to try and come back up again. Plus, it's mostly just fucking water anyway.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-82367705114875959362007-09-02T09:10:00.000-07:002007-09-02T09:20:57.638-07:00Keep it up.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rtri2HetwPI/AAAAAAAAABc/nb-jJQ66JcI/s1600-h/Sketchbook-1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rtri2HetwPI/AAAAAAAAABc/nb-jJQ66JcI/s200/Sketchbook-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105642546926567666" /></a><br />The first rule I ever assigned myself as an artist is to always carry a sketchbook, which I have since 6th grade. The trick is to always work in that book. For the last seven months or so I havn't done much as far using my sketch book for sketching. I wrote ideas, scribbled done dates and names, even phone numbers and funny websites. Seven years ago I filled a sketch book with drawings every month- on average 3-10 sketches a day. I really miss that feeling, plus having all the prep workl started is always nice when approaching a blank board. Soon I will be embarking on a new project, which should help me get back to my doodle glory. I fucking hate feeling nostalgic.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-59768608513148447352007-09-01T14:27:00.000-07:002007-09-01T16:46:19.839-07:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtnbP3etwOI/AAAAAAAAABU/MhBmOF_jiu0/s1600-h/fall+leaves.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtnbP3etwOI/AAAAAAAAABU/MhBmOF_jiu0/s200/fall+leaves.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105352718238466274" /></a><br />Finally the weather is less than scorching. I can't really stand the heat. It doesn't help that I'm one heck of a hairy and big man, but the humidity of St. Louis is like walking into a ton of hot bricks the minute you step outside. The last few days have been breezy and warm, with very little humidity. Much better, not quite just right yet. All I know is soon it will be fall, halloween, and all the leaves will crackle and skate across the ground and I'll be able to go outside and play again. Right now we're getting a taste of whats to come hopefully. Then again, it's still fucking hot.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-32357195854342511612007-08-31T14:03:00.000-07:002007-08-31T14:23:01.952-07:00Slow my roll<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtiGsXetwNI/AAAAAAAAABM/Fxrxa91dkAE/s1600-h/fourSteps.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtiGsXetwNI/AAAAAAAAABM/Fxrxa91dkAE/s200/fourSteps.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104978274399666386" /></a><br />Everyone has their own sense of process. No matter what the task is ( for me it's starting a new piece, or finding the next step, or just playing with others ideas), it seems that we all tend to work with some sort of method. For most people, it goes step 1, then 2, then 3 and so on until the end. Others may start with 1 then jump to the end and fill in the gaps between. For me, I start with 12,453,005, then I remember "shit thats a whole lot of fucking numbers" and desperately search for 1. I can't help but to start this way, which hurts my production something terrible. I keep finding myself dropping out of ideas, leaving so many good starts orphaned. So the new plan, as of two weeks ago, is to start with 1. Everytime I jump ahead I try to ground myself, and focus on nothing but 1. It feel slow, but positive. I doubt I can ever really work this way, but giving it a try should give me some sort of feeling, good or bad. Who knows, it could end up feeling fucking great.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-6341387832597183762007-08-30T23:20:00.000-07:002007-08-30T23:41:21.841-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rte4CHetwLI/AAAAAAAAAA8/JCM3Ekf99MU/s1600-h/4+Thumbs+Up.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/Rte4CHetwLI/AAAAAAAAAA8/JCM3Ekf99MU/s200/4+Thumbs+Up.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104751049154871474" /></a><br />Something strange is going on. After a week and half of constant doubt and frustration I found my voice I always wanted. Usually these days fly in like a hurricane and leave me the same, only the devastation is far worse then before. So I left the studio pleased, went to sleep pleased, and lived my day pleased....fuck me if that's ever happened. Really, what the fuck?mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-10526177863274092572007-08-29T21:04:00.000-07:002007-08-29T21:16:15.865-07:00Well, well, well...<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtZETnetwKI/AAAAAAAAAA0/7Ch8u4f6eAA/s1600-h/151620.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtZETnetwKI/AAAAAAAAAA0/7Ch8u4f6eAA/s200/151620.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104342331477049506" /></a><br /> So I have already undermined myself. My mind was so cluttered with the begging of this term and trying to pin-point what I want to work on first that I seemed to miss a post. I would like to post everyday, but just by saying that I have doomed it from ever happening. We'll see. If not, fuck it everybody gets a free shot.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-14837817547811038392007-08-25T19:09:00.000-07:002007-08-25T19:37:09.237-07:00I think I could be over the hill, or under it?<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtDmhHetwII/AAAAAAAAAAk/j_u5QWFGK6M/s1600-h/img_1084c2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtDmhHetwII/AAAAAAAAAAk/j_u5QWFGK6M/s320/img_1084c2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102831834428719234" /></a><br />Damn I feel old. Twice today my perception has proven me wrong. First while driving past a local university I made a comment to my passenger on how it must be high school day as I observed all of these kids walking the campus sidewalks. No, not high school kids, but college freshman- what I thought looked sixteen is actually eighteen....that can be a big difference to a lot of those kids, err I mean young adults. Second I made acquaintances with an intelligent girl this afternoon. After many discussions of shared ambitions and design theory we exchange info. She asked for help with her work and I offered to give it a look. Later, as I followed up to make sure she wasn't just full of shit and bored I find that she wasn't completely honest with her information. No, not eighteen but fifteen. Big difference. Now lets not let our minds go to dirty places, but if I were looking at her that way I would have guessed at least eighteen or nineteen. Needless to say I was only offering design help, with no extras, but the wrong person could easily get the wrong idea and end up regretting that cocktail. When did kids start growing up? When did grown-ups start looking younger then me? If it was my daughter/son, I would definitely be locking up the big kids clothes until college, and when she/he heads to college I will be damn sure to make her/him dress her/his respected age and not be mistaken for some high school fuck. Really, twelve year olds looking all hilton and lohan, matching outfits with their moms. What the fuck?mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-43940721250322523392007-08-25T14:09:00.000-07:002007-08-25T14:21:25.300-07:00Almost<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtCdSXetwGI/AAAAAAAAAAU/D3x_ERLzs-0/s1600-h/Chairs+2.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SZ6IYzgOD8k/RtCdSXetwGI/AAAAAAAAAAU/D3x_ERLzs-0/s320/Chairs+2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102751316676821090" /></a><br /> I've been preparing for this year for a while now...the last year of school. It has always been my choice, and really I shouldn't be complaining since I'm going to be 25 and have my masters degree, but I can't help but to jump for joy at the thought of having no more schooling left. I have only taken one short break since elementary school, and one tiny semester working on art exclusively really doesn't count as a break. It's really exciting and then again depressing. I love school, and I especially love getting ready every july for the next semester to start. I'm not afraid of being out there, its just kind of the only thing I know right now. Well, I have two semesters and then we'll just have to see what happens. Fucking a.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3242063690393601611.post-83786003319869788042007-08-24T14:45:00.000-07:002007-08-24T14:47:45.613-07:00FreshHere here to starting something new. Forces beyond my control have pushed me here kicking and screaming even though I knew it was time. Time for something fresh.mortisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16746920506749377217noreply@blogger.com1